Give In To Me
by vontramp
Summary: "Pretending not to love you was the hardest thing I've ever done." When Spencer and Emily move in their first apartment together, they were expecting questionable stains on the carpets and eccentric neighbors. Spencer wasn't, however, expecting to fall hard and fast for the boy next door.
1. Chapter 1

_"I was thinking maybe we could try, you know, us, out."_

_Far from eloquent, I could feel my voice shaking terribly and cursed the nerves rushing through my veins. The man standing before me had somehow manage to survive three years of self-destruction, bad decisions, and what my friends had so beautifully coined the "Hastings push-and-pull." I looked down at my fingernails, rehashing every moment since the day I'd met him, smoking a cigarette in the doorway of his apartment as Emily and I moved in next door during our sophomore year of college. I remembered the nights I'd crawled into his bed because I was too broken, too afraid, and too vulnerable to be on my own, when Emily would visit Paige on the weekends. The nights we would go out dancing because he could intuit the nearness I was to another mental slaying of my own device, when he would spin, dip, and hold me close, as if moving my feet across the floor of the bar could keep my feet moving forward in general. I called to mind the early afternoons he would watch television shows he could care less about, so I wouldn't feel quite so alone, or the late evenings he would cook in his own apartment and bring two plates next door, as he watched me waste away. It was three years in the making, three years of unspoken feelings on one end and denial on my own part; three years of worried glances, hugs a moment too long to try and instill in me a strength I no longer possessed, and support so strong I could no longer deny the necessity he posed._

_"Toby, I can't pretend that you aren't what," I shook my head, cursing the words tripping over my teeth and tongue, "- that you aren't who I need. Maybe it's always been you." I shrugged simply, an attempt to filter in a sense that my words were cavalier._

_"Are you sure that _this_ is what you want though? Are you sure that _I_ am what you want?" His warm eyes bore into my own, attempting to detect any flicker of doubt, of insecurity in my features._

_Tears bubbled against my eyelashes and I blinked upward a few times, willing them to evaporate on their own or be sucked back behind my irises. "Do I never know what I want?" I whispered, a self-deprecating laugh following my words. He chuckled just as softly, shaking his head as he stood and crossed the room, perching himself on the arm of the chair I was slumped in. Leaning into his weight without a second thought, I felt his calloused hands brushed back my bangs and meander gently through the length of my hair. "I think that this time though, I know what I need." My eye line shifted upward, catching his strong, steady gaze before my eyelids fluttered closed as his lips grazed my hairline._

_"I've been waiting nearly three years to have this conversation with you," he hushed, braiding his confession in my tangled locks. "I didn't think it would ever happen."_

* * *

"I could never see another piece of cardboard in my life, and it would still be too soon." Emily dropped what seemed like the hundredth heavily packed box onto the carpeted floor of our apartment, readjusting her hoodie and groaning as she massaged her shoulder. I side stepped her father as he moved in one of the larger pieces, adding to the strange amalgamation of antiques, Goodwill finds, and family donations we'd acquired once announcing our move. Her mother brushed past me just moments later, holding several paintings and photographs, cupping my cheek before moving back toward the truck to continue unloading.

Intertwining my fingers with Emily's, we both headed outside, intent on finishing our unloading before dusk set in. "Do you guys need some help?" The voice behind us was unexpected, causing us both to start and then freeze in place. "It looks like your dad is having some trouble with the entertainment center," the boy explained, nodding toward the back of Mr. Fields' truck, where he and Pam were clearly struggling with the awkwardly shaped piece. I could feel Emily shrink behind me, her inherently timid nature overshadowing the confidence she'd built in high school, and I lost my voice in between my vocal chords, coughing harshly to retrieve it as twinkling eyes watched me with curiosity. "I just figured it's the neighborly thing to do, right?" I simply nodded before finally collecting myself and extending my hand.

"Spencer," I offered, "and this is my best friend Emily." She waved from behind me, not letting her grip on my fingers loosen a bit. I shifted my gaze over my right shoulder, seeing the Fields growing more and more frustrated with the large piece of furniture. "Some help would be great," I managed to hush out, smiling almost as shyly as Emily was existing in that moment. He nodded, and without a second thought, put out his cigarette and crossed the grassy quad to help lift the monstrous television stand, easily lifting it from the truck bed and carrying most of the weight as my roommate's parents sighed in relief. He helped Mr. Fields settle the wooden structure against the far wall of our living room, shrugging off the older man's thanks before both adults hugged us fiercely and wished us good luck. We watched as they drove away, waving for a moment before collapsing in our open doorway.

"Emily, can we just get married so we never have to move again?" I groaned, leaning against the open door as she threw a pack of cigarettes towards me. I tucked one between my fingers, lighting it and avoiding the memories tied to the item in my grasp. After U Penn was no longer an option, I opted to stay close to home, attending Hollis; while the course load was nothing in comparison to what it might have been, I still felt myself floundering, and rather than face them head on, I made myself forget. I began dabbling in the pills that had taken over my life twice already, without fear of consequence. I'd found hole in the wall bars that didn't ID and spent my weekends forgetting, always claiming to be somewhere else when my parents' inevitable questions surfaced, despite their general disinterest in my comings and goings. It wasn't until my mother caught me smoking on our back patio that they deemed my actions worthy of concern. Concern turned to disgust, which quickly metamorphosed to me calling Emily on a freezing Friday night, with nothing but two duffel bags to my name, needing a place to stay. Were it not for her unending patience, I would probably be just as bad off as I had been before, but smoking occasionally was the only vice that had stuck around, as she now kept tabs on my mental status.

I felt the nicotine soothe my ravaged nerves as my best friend's sweet voice carried over to my ears from the small kitchen, where she was dedicatedly unpacking the first of what seemed like a hundred boxes. "If no one else decides to marry us, I'll totally marry you Spence," she teased, winking at me before organizing plates into the top cabinets.

"That's a shame," I heard from my right, the deep voice shell shocking me once more. "I finally get two attractive neighbors, and they've already given up on love," he teased. I readjusted my position, settling my bare feet onto the concrete sidewalk and leaning forward to catch his gaze, eyes crinkled at the corners. My lips couldn't help but mirror his smirk, and a light flush crept across my cheeks. "I'm Toby, by the way," he continued, not phased in the slightest by my lack of response. "I just realized I never introduced myself properly before basically inviting myself into your apartment."

"Can you cook?" Emily's voice carried through our small apartment easily, and he called back an affirmative response quickly. "Then feel free to invite yourself in any time." My eyes shot daggers in her direction and she shrugged, grinning cheekily. "He seems sweet," she mouthed toward me, and I rolled my eyes before mouthing back, "I hate you." She formed a heart with her hands, smirking at my discomfort and thoroughly enjoying each minute I interacted with our new neighbor.

"Are you two both at Hollis?" I nodded, keeping the ivy league disasters of my senior year mum. As much as I hated to admit it, Emily was right when she simply said that Toby seemed sweet. He was engaged, interested, and not phased in the slightest by admittedly less than open nature when it came to divulgences. There was no need to scare him off with stories of experimentation (be it sexual or substance related) or a rousing trip to rehab or the days I spent with unwashed hair in an oversized nightgown, staring blankly across a locked room in Radley.

"Psychology majors," Emily offered with a bright smile, warming up far more quickly than I anticipated to the boy next door as she settled into the door frame next to me. I mirrored her grin though I still wasn't sure where my education would take me, if I wanted it to take me anywhere. Halfway through my bachelor's degree already, it seemed illogical to change majors now, particularly when I still hadn't the foggiest idea where I wanted my life to head in the next week, much less the next five or ten years.

He nodded, flicking ash onto the sidewalk as he held up one of the many open notebooks littering his carpet. "Architecture," he replied easily. "It's one of the few majors where you are simultaneously excited for your future and plotting your own demise." He flashed another crooked smile that had my heart skip a beat, and rather than allow my tongue to trip over my teeth, I took a long drag from my cigarette, blowing the smoke upward and away from Emily. "Speaking of, I probably ought to get to work on a project I have due next week." Something flashed behind his eyes, regret perhaps, though I couldn't be sure. "It was nice to meet you two," he continued, focusing his gaze on my still slightly flushed cheeks and nodding. "See you around." Stamping out his cigarette, he sent a second grin our way, and I could help but return the gesture as one of his cheeks tugged up just the slightest bit more than the other before he shut his front door gently behind him.

* * *

"You can have that side," Emily gestured, pointing toward the larger side of our walk-in, which was admittedly smaller than the handicapped stalls in most restrooms. Granted, our entire apartment was barely the size of a matchbox, so grandeur wasn't exactly what we had expectations of.

"What, now that you're out, you don't need as much room in the closet?" I teased, earning a withering glare from the girl less than six inches from me, due to the close quarters.

"I'm choosing to let that gay joke slide, since you haven't exactly been the picture of heterosexuality lately." My stomach clenched tightly, and despite my adept aptitude for snark, I felt my synapses misfire, leaving me silent. "I'm sorry Spence," my roommate immediately whispered, and I shrugged, brushing off the flash flood of emotions her comment had provoked in every atom of my body.

As it turns out, Hastings perfection goes far beyond flawless grades, abounding extracurriculars, and polite smiles at the country club. When in the depths of my tailspin, I found myself searching for comfort in the arms of other women; after years of trying to live up to unreachable standards, my innate tendency for rebellion had me searching the very corners of the earth for ways to escape being Spencer Hastings. Despite my parents disapproval, and consequent near disowning, things were far easier this way. I could make it through my days floating slightly above myself, disconnected from who I was and what was expected of me. I avoided myself at all costs, and Emily supported my choice to explore the Sapphic side of romance, be it a stage or an avoided inevitability. I was trying to settle into a state of acceptance, but cheeky grins and crinkled eyes had thrown my world off of its already tilted axis.

"It's fine Em, really," I finally replied, my voice hoarse and barely its own whisper as I continued unpacking my things.

"Toby seems nice," she rallied, her attempt to change the subject not unnoticed, or unappreciated. "He's a lot better than the elephants upstairs, or that one lady from the other side of the complex who offered you and Hanna pot while you were studying in the doorway last week. A welcome to the 'hood' present, really?"

I couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled over my lips, and the tightening in my chest lifted somewhat. "Hanna and I actually checked out that joint. There were twigs in it – legitimate twigs." Emily's chocolate eyes widened before she burst into laughter, clutching her stomach and resting her free hand on one of the unopened boxes near us. "I don't know what that woman is smoking, but it sure as hell isn't marijuana."

It took a moment for my best friend to catch her breath before she dropped a metaphorical bomb, making the situation worse than I had initially imagined it to be. "She did say she found it on the side of the road when she was walking home from the addiction clinic. Apparently people leave their drugs near the bus stop before they go in, and pick it up on their way out."

I could feel my eyebrows travel upward, nearly meeting my hairline as my mouth hung open. The slap I delivered to Emily's good shoulder only made her laugh harder and it took everything I had not to keep hitting her for bursting into giggles every few seconds. "You didn't think maybe that would have been something to tell us?"

"I figured you were smart enough to talk Hanna out of accepting drugs from some woman named Deidre who has butterflies taped all over her windows and openly admits to going to sketchy measures to get high," she retorted, batting my hands away as I continued my assault on her. My eyes narrowed as I sighed in exasperation, unable to keep the smile tugging at my cheeks at bay. Our apartment complex was dysfunctional; that was undebatable. In the same respect though, despite the boxes littering the living room floor, the nearly empty refrigerator in the kitchen, and the unmade beds in our single room, it was ours.

And with an admittedly intriguing neighbor, I felt sure things would get more interesting before they settled down.

* * *

**AN:** Well hey there! I'm not sure how many of my readers from my other stories will make the transition, given that this is my first non-Glee FF publication, but I hope at least a few of you have had your interest piqued!  
This story is obviously future-set, and I've taken liberties with Spencer, though I don't feel that any of them are too far out of left field to make her unbelievable. That said, she and Toby clearly enough did not meet in high school, which begs the idea that this story is in some ways AU. Character backgrounds will stay intact however, Spoby's relationship aside.

So, let me know what you think in reviews or PMs! I appreciate you reading. :) x Aimee 


	2. Chapter 2

"You look like crap."

Peering up from the doorway, I tucked a few loose strands of hair behind my ear and flashed a crooked grin upward. "I think I've heard that once or twice," I replied with a quiet chuckle. "Is that how you charm so many women? Complimenting their obvious imperfections with witty repartee?"

"Only the women I think are worth using my best lines on, who happen to be sitting in open doorways at three in the morning essentially attached to a caffeine drip while they pour over books that don't make any sense to me," Toby quipped back, leaning casually against the door frame. "Shouldn't you get some sleep Spence?"

"I'm not tired," was my perhaps overly flippant response as I rustled through my note cards, plucking one from the bottom and adding a few more notes in painstaking cursive. Despite it being late into the night, I was well aware that it didn't seem as though I could be deterred from my studies, as my eyes barely blinked as they scanned the copious amount of information before me.

"She doesn't sleep Toby. You should know that by now." Emily shrugged off her jacket as she easily stepped over my books, tossing a second energy drink onto the carpet as she slipped out of her shoes as well. "She's always up when I get off of work, which means she's always awake when _you _get off of work too."

"Sitting right here, Em. I can read over the four hundred and sixty seven different theories of learning and still heard you two discussing my sleep patterns. It's not exactly difficult." I sipped from the can closest to my knee before tossing it in the general direction of the trash can. Toby watched as I lit a cigarette with one hand and continued taking notes with the other, the two simple tasks not impeding one another in the slightest. Looking across the apartment, he hoped to catch my best friend's gaze, but found her adamantly avoiding his stare. "Also, if you could stop trying to hold silent conversations with Emily through _meaningful glances_," I air quoted, "I would appreciate it. Some nights I just don't sleep, okay? It's not a big deal." My hand's trail across the paper didn't stop as I pleaded my case, a light film of irritation coloring my words.

Toby heard the familiar squeak of the shower faucet and noticed that the living room had emptied. Without his second neighbor to play referee, he settled into the doorway, taking care not to jostle the expanse of notes that, skewed as they were, seemed to have some unseen pattern to their placement. "How is not sleeping for days not a big deal Spence? The circles under your eyes have circles." Sighing, I shut my book and pushed it away, stretching my legs and cracking my neck to prolong the time I would have before looking up to meet concerned eyes and furrowed brows. Instead, when I finally chanced a glance upward, I found he'd lit his own cigarette and turned his back to me, taking in the moon that shone brightly, high above us. Scooting across the carpet, I let my feet fall over the bottom of the doorframe, settling onto the cobbled sidewalk before leaning into his side. "Drinking all that caffeine can't be good for you either."

"If caffeine were going to kill me, I wouldn't have made it past third grade Toby." My attempt to lighten the mood fell short, and I tilted my head onto his shoulder, hoping my warmth would soothe his clearly ravaged nerves. "It's been like this for years. I don't sleep for about a week, or if I do, it's hour long naps here and there, just because my head is getting foggy; then, in a week or two, after it seems like I'm back to normal, I do nothing _but_ sleep. It's a weird pattern, but it happens, and I'm used to it."

Taking a long drag from his cigarette, the boy sitting impossibly close to me nodded, swallowing back the hard lump in his throat. "I hate it when you say that - you know, that you're _used to it_. You shouldn't be used to it." One of his hands fumbled blindly for mine, unable to shift his eyes from the full moon bathing is in a soft white light, finally catching hold and intertwining their fingers. "You're an enigma, Spencer."

"An enigma wrapped in a conundrum coated in a hardened shell of self-destruction," I teased, not noticing as his half-hearted smile didn't reach his eyes. It was an automatic defense mechanism - my humor, my scathing sarcasm - and it hadn't taken long for the young man brushing his thumb across the back of my hand to realize that. I had a tendency toward avoiding confrontation that I hadn't already planned for, and made light of any serious discussion someone attempted, so long as the subject matter revolved around me or my problems.

I felt his hand squeeze mine gently, urging me to make eye contact despite my inherent tendency to do just the opposite. "Stay with me tonight," he whispered, his voice wavering. Biting back any response that bubbled to the tip of my tongue, I paused for several long seconds before nodding. He stood, keeping our fingers intertwined as he lifted me to a standing position as well, casually kicking my notes out of the way so he could close the front door while hoping I hadn't noticed.

"I saw that," I quipped, hand on his doorknob and a chuckle coloring my features.

"Freud won't be upset with me."

"Freud didn't have a learning theory, dork. All he thought about was sex - sex with your mother, or your father, or a complete stranger. You know, the usual implications of a healthy sexual relationship."

Toby grinned, shaking his head as he pushed his apartment door open, turning to look past his shoulder for just a moment, blue eyes twinkling. "We really ought to work on your seduction techniques," he teased as he gathered an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts for me while I leaned against the doorway to his bedroom. "I know some guys are into some pretty kinky stuff, but the topic of sex with your parents just kind of kills the mood." Punching his bicep, I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my cheeks as I walked into his surprisingly clean (for a guy) bathroom and changed into the clothes he had provided for me. I brought the hem of the sleeves of the shirt up to my nose, inhaling the scent that was distinctly Toby - one that reminded me ever-so-slightly of my father.

It began in middle school, when my father started working even more than usual, and my mother was around about as often as Haley's comet. I would sneak into their en suite bathroom and steal a small amount of my dad's shower gel, allowing the scent to bubble up around me as I bathed. It was one of the few things that could soothe my ravaged nerves in the early stages of anxiety, and even at twenty years old, Emily and I kept a small bottle of men's soap under the sink in their bathroom.

The buzzing in my limbs slowed; it was a minimal shift, but a shift nonetheless - one I was thankful for. Releasing the cuffs of the long sleeve shirt, I padded back into the bedroom, finding Toby occupying far less than half of his bed, with the space next to the wall empty. Emily apparently had let it slip that I couldn't sleep anywhere but against the wall, as it offered some sort of comfort. Tucking an unruly strand of waves behind my ear, a small smile teased at the corner of my mouth, despite the fact that I couldn't be sure he had known. Running his fingers through his own hair, Toby patted the space in front of him and I flopped onto the mattress, resituating myself closer to his crossed legs and allowing my eyes to flicker across his face, memorizing each freckle and light line carved into his features.

"Turn around," he whispered, feeling as though the moment required soft sounds, if any at all. I complied, refusing to give in to my confusion and curiosity and trying my hardest to trust the boy inches from my body. When he pressed into the tender knots between my shoulders, a low moan escaped my lips, and the feeling of his strong fingers working nimbly against the tension my back held kept me from apologizing or drowning in embarrassment. I could feel my eyelids fighting a losing battle as my back muscles relaxed and my limbs turned to jelly.

"That feels incredible," I managed to husk out, chuckling when I heard an automatic response of, "most of the women in my bed tell me that." I reached back to slap his thigh, but one of his thumbs found an incredible tight knot and I found myself unable to move a millimeter. Toby worked diligently until he could feel my weight pressing against his hands as I was now rendered unable to sit up straight.

"Under the covers," he whispered, lifting the sheets and comforter and allowing me to maneuver myself beneath them. I essentially collapsed onto his pillows, sighing gently when they fluffed up around my head, giving me a strange sense of comfort. Flicking off the lamp on his bedside table, Toby settled in beside me, keeping a fair amount of distance as he soothingly rubbed his calloused palms across my back. He repeated the slow circles for several minutes, watching as my eyes flickered shut for just a second longer each time.

"Toby?" He hummed a sound of acknowledgement, intent on not breaking the spell surrounding them. "Can you hold me until I fall asleep?"

"Anything you need me to Spence." His arm easily wrapped around my small waist and he tugged me backward, closer to his body when he felt me shiver in his arms. I remember he told me once that I seemed even smaller in his grasp, with each inhale of his distinct, addictive smell seemingly shuddering through my body. I finally allowed myself to relax back into his chest, absorbing his warmth and taking comfort in his confident, sure embrace. My eyelids felt like anvils were sitting atop them, and it wasn't long until I gave in to the exhaustion that had been coursing through my body for days, despite my outward appearance of energy.

* * *

Rolling over hours later, I found the apartment empty and the other half of the bed chilly, but occupied with a folded piece of notebook paper.

_Emily stopped by earlier to say that your first class had been cancelled, so I didn't wake you. I couldn't have anyway, because you're really beautiful when you sleep. There's a Red Bull in the fridge for you, because we all know mornings aren't your forte. Have a good day. :)_

_P.S. You talk in your sleep, which is kind of adorable, even if it's not in English sometimes._

I couldn't help the slight grin that note provoked, sliding out from underneath the covers without much protest from my body. Twisting this way and that, relishing in the satisfying cracks of my neck and back before I padded toward the kitchen, I retrieved my energy drink and made the two foot walk back to my own apartment.

"I never thought I would see the day that Spencer Hastings did the walk of shame," Emily teased before my feet could even hit the plush carpet.

Flopping onto the floor in the open doorway, I attempted to glare at my best friend, failing miserably as she chuckled. Even more satisfying that the popping of my bones was the same sound of the can in front of me and its accompanying sizzle of carbonation before I deemed myself ready to speak. "It's not a walk of shame if you didn't do anything shameful," I chastised, successfully pulling Emily's attention from the paper she was drafting.

"Are you telling me that you two just slept?"

"He gave me a back massage and we slept - _just slept_," I confirmed, emphasizing the last two words and watching as the brunette poised in front of her computer twisted her lips in contemplation. "Em, you know it's not like that."

"I know you say it's not like that, but I also know that Toby's eyes say that it's _exactly _like that." My mouth automatically opened to protest and my best friend held a hand up, stopping me before I could start. "It's so like that. You may not want to admit that it is, but it totally is. He likes you," she sing-songed, "and before you go on some post-modern feminist rant about the objectification of women in their relationships with men or something, you should realize that it's not his fault, Spencer Jill. Everybody falls in love with you."

"That is completely inaccurate," I rebuffed, rolling my eyes.

"Let's count Melissa's exes, shall we?" Emily stood, refilling her coffee cup as she continued. "I'm not judging; it's a simple fact Spence. You could go without showering for a week and show up to The Brew in sweats and a cut off t-shirt and have some guy offer to buy your coffee. Naturally, Toby was going to become next on the list of your victims."

Slowly standing as I flicked my cigarette butt into the ashtray we shared with our next door neighbor, I shut the door and began making my way to our bedroom. "You make me sound like Charles Manson, you know," I called from the closet, pulling a loose fitting patterned blouse and shorts from the storage drawers on the floor. "I'm not trying to get him to like me."

"You never try," Emily countered, following my voice. "Just - just don't break his heart."

"I'm not trying to do that either."

"You never do," she sighed, brushing a few strands of overgrown hair out of my eyes. "I'm going to get our stuff together. If we're late to Dr. Gardener's class one more time, I don't think he'll find it nearly as charming as he did the first four times."

"Emily?" I called out hoarsely, hearing a murmured acknowledgement from the living room. "Thanks."

"I love you too," she teased. "Now, get your ass in gear, or we will definitely be late."

* * *

**AN: I want to thank all of you who have already started following this story, first off. Second, I hope you're continuing to enjoy it. If you ever have questions/comments, don't hesitate to get in touch with me. :) **


	3. Chapter 3

" Come on Spence. You haven't been to class since Monday." I could hear the concern in my roommate's words and knew that in the event that I lifted the comforter away from my face, I would find her eyebrows furrowed to meet in the middle and her lips drawn in a tight line. Before I had a chance to decide whether I would in fact remove my aching body from the cocoon I had created for myself, the sheets were ripped out of my loose grip and thrown unceremoniously on the floor. I groaned against the bright light flooding my senses and buried into the solitary pillow Emily had not yet yanked from my mattress. "Get out of bed Spencer Jill."

"I don't feel well," I mumbled into the fabric surrounding my lips. "I'll go tomorrow."

"You said that yesterday," she immediately countered. "I have no problem signing your name on the roster or taking notes for you when you are actually sick, and you know that, but this is getting ridiculous." Her frustration was masking a film of uneasiness, something I could easily pick up on after years of friendship; there were still times when she refused to show vulnerability, lashing out instead, and after a three second count in my head, I could see the guilt set in. Before she could apologize, I swung my legs over the side of my bed, fighting the grimace I felt bubbling to the surface, and stumbled to the closet to change my shirt. I opted to remain in my yoga pants, knowing that at this point, brushing my teeth would feel like a victory for both my roommate and myself. I stifled a yawn with my elbow as I pulled my hair into a high, extremely messy bun, taking note of the darkened skin beneath my eyes as the yawn eventually subsided. I looked like death warmed over in a discounted microwave and briefly considered putting on makeup before deciding that my current appearance was about as good as it would get; people were lucky I was awake and moving, to be perfectly frank, and Emily's grin of self-contentment was enough for me.

"You look like you got hit by a truck." I cracked a wry grin as I settled onto a bench next to Aria not even an hour later, toasting her caffeinated beverage with my own as her eyes scanned my figure. "Seriously Spence, you look like the I-Don't-Give-A-Fuck bus hit you square in the face this morning, and you decided to come to school anyway."

"I didn't have a choice. Emily stole my sheets again." Aria threw her head back in laughter, and I mimicked it half-heartedly, the past few days flashing through my mind and the memories being far from humorous. My eyelids were fighting to stay open, despite the caffeine coursing through my veins, and even the thought of sitting through one class seemed more impossible than going back in time to save the Titanic. My jaw automatically clenched when I realized that I wasn't the iceberg in that metaphor, and I lit a cigarette in immediate response, hoping that the smoke, as much as I hated it, would be able to keep my cyclical thoughts at bay.

I almost felt as though I could sense the chemicals in my brain shifting, some leveling out and others dropping to dangerous levels as Aria and I sat in silence, watching innumerous students pass in front of us on the sidewalk. My head felt waterlogged, and my limbs were pulling me further and further toward the ground with a heaviness I was beginning to become accustomed to. My mind immediately flashed to Toby. _I hate it when you say that - you know, that you're used to it. You shouldn't be used to it._ I blinked slowly, prayerfully, hoping that my body would catch up to the fast pace of the world around me, rather than dragging me down even further than I was already settled. A sharp flash caught me off guard, a voice in the furthest reaches of my brain that was rough and demanding, so far from the sweetened voice of the boy next door. _It would be easier on everyone if you were gone._ I clenched my eyelids shut, shaking my head from side to side to try and regroup; when my eyelashes finally fluttered open, I met wavering orbs of hazel watching me carefully.

"I'll snap out of it. I always do," I quickly reassured her, and she nodded in agreement, though she refused to break our gaze. Aria knew just as well as anyone that I would, in fact, at some point "snap out of it." The switch in me would flip without warning, and I would be back to scribbling nearly illegible notes and staying awake for days. My words would jumble because my thoughts were moving too quickly for my mouth and I would become venomously irritable after day three. I could never know when either was coming, or how long each period would last - it was my own personal hell, wobbling in a limbo I could never move past. "Anyway, how is Fitz?"

Aria shrugged noncommittally, sipping on the drink in her hands. The hopeless romantic she was in high school had faded away after years of let downs, and the petite brunette in front of me no longer wore her heart on her sleeve, and was, if it were at all possible, even quieter about her romances than she was before. "How is Toby?" I immediately rolled my eyes and she shot a playful glare in my direction. "Maybe you shouldn't ask people about things you know they don't want to talk about if you don't want to talk about things either." My phone buzzed in my lap, the vibration quivering against my thighs and giving me an automatic out from the conversation. _Hey. Did you make it to class today?_ My thumbs tapped out a quick affirmative and sent it before looking back up and meeting Aria's eyes, a flickering flame of mischief embedded within her pupils.

"Speak of the devil."

"Don't you have serial killers to learn about?" I griped, referencing the ten o'clock class she had while I would be sitting in a desk learning about psychological disorders. "Charles Manson is waiting," I sing songed, feeling almost normal in the midst of our banter. Swinging her backpack over one shoulder, she waited for me to stand as well, clearly under orders from Emily to accompany me across campus to ensure I would actually attend the class in question.

Once sitting behind the four-top table, my binder open and page blank, I stared mercilessly at the clock, willing time to pass more quickly, though it seemed to make each second drag by even more slowly. I tapped the end of my pen in time with the clock, counting the seconds as my professor's voice droned monotonously in the background. I scribbled against my paper, tallying the number of times the young woman used a connective phrase – like, um, or you know – and found my paper covered in tiny lines within minutes. Those minutes still felt like hours. Each time she would ask for a volunteer I would consider raising my hand, but lifting my elbow off of the desk top seemed as likely as running a marathon, so I resumed my pen tapping, ignoring the annoyed glances the other students near me sent my way.

* * *

I threw my hand over my mouth as I ran through the recently unlocked door, stumbling towards the bathroom and sinking to the floor before the contents of my stomach ripped upward through my chest. I murmured my gratitude skyward that I had managed to make it to the toilet before another wave pulled my stomach in three different directions.

"I've got it from here," I heard whispered, recognizing my roommate's voice through the haze surrounding me.

"I really don't mind." The second voice was deeper, but not unfamiliar. I tried my hardest to place it, scanning my memories of the night to connect the dots, fuzzy as they were. "I bought her all those drinks, Em." Toby. A wry grin colored my features as I successfully determined who was standing just outside of the bathroom door.

"It's not your fault. She can be hard to say no to when she's like this." Like what, I wondered, but couldn't get my vocal chords to cooperate with my brain, and thus remained silent, fighting the nausea still tickling my throat. "When she seems okay, it's easy to find yourself doing anything to hold onto that."

There was a long silence, one filled with unasked questions and uneasy looks that I could somehow hear, despite the rushing in my ears and the loud beats my heart was pounding out. I coughed a few times, hoping against hope that I wasn't going to throw up once again, actually hearing the door open behind me, and Emily's soft inquiry floating through the air. "I'm fine," I managed, my voice hoarse and my chest tight. I'm not sure if I meant in that moment, in general, or that perhaps I would be in a few days.

"I'll go get a bowl and a water bottle for you. You can sleep in my bed tonight." I nodded against the toilet seat, where my cheek had seemed to take up permanent residence. It had become a ritual of ours. I would become blisteringly, painfully drunk, and she would tend to me. Her bed was the bottom bunk, and was mine on nights such as these. She would leave water that I wouldn't touch after initially swallowing several ibuprofen, and next to it, the largest bowl we owned, on the off chance that I wouldn't make it back to the bathroom. I always did, and she always left it anyway. "Toby, just go to sleep. I really do have it under control."

Barely able to make out his silhouette through the haze of my vision, I saw him echo my earlier nod, though he didn't make a motion away from the door. "From what I remember, I had fun." His features were pinched and he flashed a halfhearted smile my way. "Sweet dreams," I continued to mumble, slurring my words slightly. "I love you."

"I love you too Spence," he whispered, leaning through the doorway and kissing the top of my head. "Sweet dreams."

Flushing the toilet, I crawled from my place on the cheap linoleum toward Emily's mattress, clambering slightly upward and collapsing against her blankets. My eyelids felt as though baby elephants were tap dancing against them, but each time I allowed them to flutter closed, the room spun mercilessly. I dropped a single foot off of the bed and felt the circles slow slightly, but not completely stop. "Shit," I whispered, flipping off of the mattress and stumbling as quickly as I could back to the bathroom. My roommate found me there just a few minutes later, using our rug as a pillow and several towels as blankets, sound asleep.

When I woke the next morning, my face was plastered against the linoleum tiles and my head was pounding mercilessly. I was unsettlingly acquainted with this position and knew better than to open my eyes, given that the blinding light would only worsen the migraine circulating through my forehead. As I waited for my body to adjust, even slightly, flashes of the night before slipped into the forefront of my thoughts - intertwined fingers, cheeks pressed against one another, and a portion of the bar filled entirely with empty glasses of my own ingestion. I stretched out, wincing as my ankle slid across the floor and squinted my eyes until they hazily focused on a pair of my tallest heels, set aside by Emily no doubt. Pulling my knee to my chest, I inspected my ankle as best I could, finding it swollen and slightly bruised.

"I think it's just a mild sprain." Whipping my head around then subsequently groaning as I waited for my brain to stop sloshing around in my skull, I saw Emily standing over me, holding an energy drink in one hand and a Powerade in the other.

"Luckily for you, I remember how much you hate crutching around campus, so it's your free pass for a day off without a lecture. The hangover is simply coincidence at this point." I smiled gratefully, easing myself into a sitting position and accepting both drinks, settling the caffeine onto the floor next to me, knowing she would rather I drank the other first.

"What in the hell were you thinking Spencer?" she murmured in a low voice, plugging the bath tub and turning on the hot water. Our pipes were unaccustomed to any degree of mediocrity, leaving you with either burnt skin or chattering teeth when you wrapped yourself in a towel afterward, and we'd both chosen burnt skin for the next year.

"I was _thinking_ that I wasn't going to be lectured," I griped, sipping slowly on the blue liquid in my left hand as I pointed and flexed my ankle, trying vainly to stretch the tendons as I had done for most of my life after dance related injuries. It had been years since I'd spun around a wooden floor or done plies against a barre, but old habits die hard, and thankfully this was one of my few habits that did my body any sort of good.

"You aren't going to be lectured about missing school. I think it's fair enough to say that you could have gotten into some serious shit if Toby hadn't been with you last night; that deserves a lecture."

"Thanks Mom, but I _was_ with Toby, so I don't see what the big deal is." I leaned back against the bathroom cabinet, still stretching my ankle as far as it would allow me to, occasionally tensing when I had pushed a bit too far. Emily's t-shirt hit me in the face as she stripped down for her bath and I heard her hiss as she sank into the water. When she finally connected our eyes again, the invariable sadness that flooded them sent a shockwave straight into my chest, probing my heart to fall straight into my stomach.

"You can't keep doing this Spence," she whispered, flattening her palms against the rim of the tub and settling her face onto the back of her hands. "It's horrible not knowing where you are or who you're with or if you're okay. I never know if you're okay, and after everything we've been through in the past four years, I figured you'd be a bit more careful." Emily brushed her cheek against her shoulder, wiping a tear we both pretended hadn't been there. "It's exhausting worrying about you all the time."

"Then stop worrying," I spit back, my words more harsh than if I had actually, physically, legitimately spit in her face. "I never asked you to worry about me. I don't want you to fucking worry about me."

"Then do something about it," she threw back just as readily, her words shaking.

Barking out a laugh, I struggled to my feet, leaving most of my weight on my left leg as I used the bathroom counter to keep my balance. "What do you want me to do Em? Go crawling back to my parents and ask for their help? Lock myself away in Radley for another month or two until they deem me psychologically stable?" I automatically rolled my eyes at the thought, frustration coursing through my veins. "I'm fine." I exited the bathroom without another word, limping towards the front door, my pack of cigarettes, and the notecards I'd made for Monday's exam in our disorders class.

* * *

"A long-term mental disorder of a type involving a breakdown in the relation between thought, emotion, and behavior, leading to faulty perception, inappropriate actions and feelings, withdrawal from reality and personal relationships into fantasy and delusion, and a sense of mental fragmentation."

"Schizophrenia." Toby nodded, setting that card in particular on the growing stack of correct answers I'd made thus far. It was Sunday night, and he was helping with a last minute review session, since Emily had been out of the apartment since our fight Friday morning.

"A person with a personality disorder manifesting itself in extreme antisocial attitudes and behavior and a lack of conscience."

"A sociopath. Give me something a little more difficult," I teased, adjusting the icepack on my ankle as I waited for him to flip through the stack of notecards he was holding.

"A mental illness that brings severe high and low moods and changes in sleep, energy, thinking, and behavior." His voice had dropped an octave or so, but he gave another approving nod when I replied with the correct answer. "Can you explain that one to me a bit more?"

"Bipolar disorder was named because the patients diagnosed with it don't usually have an in-between setting. They're either manic or depressive, and switch between the two with no visible pattern more often than not." Emily and I had been studying for this final for weeks, and our psychological disorder class was one of the easiest for me, so I could essentially summarize the textbook on request. "During manic episodes, they can be restless, have rapid speech, increased energy, bouts of sleeplessness, impulsivity, and have a tendency toward drug and alcohol abuse. During the depressive periods, it's textbook: feelings of worthlessness, uncontrollable crying, needing more sleep, not eating, suicidal thoughts - that sort of thing."

Toby nodded, reading off of the next card without saying anything more on the previous disorder. We finished quickly, and with my newfound confidence in my ability, decided to watch a movie rather than rattle my brain further. I poured a generous glass of wine, glossing over my neighbor's concerned expression, and returned to the futon to curl into his side. We sat in a comfortable silence as images flashed before our eyes, his bright blue and mine, a much darker mocha. I could occasionally feel laughter rumble in his chest before it was audible, and the sensation led me to scoot closer, leaning into the warmth he constantly exuded.

The front door cracked open minutes later, and a sheath of dark hair appeared, signaling Emily's return after two and a half long days of separation between my roommate and I.

"Hey," I whispered, my voice cracking. She nodded in response, crossing the living room to deposit her things in our bedroom. I followed her automatically, settling a hand on Toby's shoulder before I did, silently asking him not to leave just yet. "Em, can we talk?" I shut the door separating us from the living room when she nodded a second time. "I'm sorry for how I reacted. I was really out of line, and I shouldn't have blown up on you and –"

"I'm sorry too," she quickly interrupted. "You weren't the only one at fault. I shouldn't have run off to Hanna's for the weekend without saying anything anyway." I nodded slowly, trying my hardest to take her words at face value, worried that she was compromising simply because she wasn't a fan of conflict – any conflict, at any level.

"Do you want to come and watch the rest of the movie with us? We ordered pizza." The smile on my lips was tentative, and her look of confusion did nothing to calm the nerves rattling my rib cage.

"Toby is willingly watching Step Up?" she chuckled, and the air I had been holding in my chest let out with my own giggle.

"He picked it," I winked. "He has a soft spot for dance movies. He came over Saturday afternoon to check on me and ended up watching most of Honey with me, and then playing Just Dance on the Wii." My best friend's look of confusion shifted into one of incredulity.

"I would pay to see that."

"There are videos," I whispered, laughing bubbling in my throat as the remaining tension faded from my limbs. I waited for Emily to change into yoga pants before grasping her hand tightly and leading her back into the living room and collapsing onto the couch. I was once again curled into Toby's side, and she had nestled her head in my lap. Feeling a gaze against the side of my face, a light flush covered my cheeks when I met our neighbor's bright eyes, full of some strange sense of pride. I grinned, nudging him once to divert his attention back to the movie, and not toward Emily and I's reconciliation.

I felt his breath against my ear before his deep voice filled the air. "If you show her the videos, I'll have to kill her," he teased, tickling my side before returning his focus to the movie, oblivious to the gaze I was washing him in – one of affection and disbelief that he'd actually chosen me, regardless of what he'd chosen me to be, and regardless of what I could return in that sense.

* * *

**AN: A bit of a longer chapter, given that it's been a little while since my last update. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! I love hearing back from you, so any comments or criticism are appreciated. :) xx Aimee**


	4. Chapter 4

I tugged forcefully at my roommate's hands, attempting to pull her off of the floor of our living room, where she'd been collapsed for the past fifteen minutes. Emily groaned, futilely pushing away my grasping fingers, insistent though they were. "Can't we just bask in our post-finals happiness for like, five more minutes? Why did we think a party would be a good idea anyway? I've had maybe twelve hours of combined sleep in the past three days."

Giving up, I nudged my best friend's side playfully with my foot as I went back into the kitchen, rearranging the refrigerator to accommodate the copious amounts of beer we'd purchased. "Because," I stressed, "we managed to make it through another semester without losing our scholarships, failing any classes, or attempting homicide. I think that deserves celebration." I continued reorganizing things in our small kitchen before moving back into the living room to fluff pillows, flick on the stereo, and clean up the last of our studying materials.

"I want to celebrate with a nap," Emily yawned from her place on the floor, curling up in a ball and covering her face. Nuzzling further into the carpet, she didn't hear the front door open and subsequently squealed loudly in surprise when Toby lifted her from her comfortable position over his shoulder, swinging her around.

"No napping," he chided, tickling her sides as she thrashed in his grip. She beat her fists against his back playfully, begging to be placed upright on the floor again as she giggled. Dropping the squirming brunette to the ground, he pulled her in quickly for a hug, ruffling her hair before moving into the kitchen to add to the liquor supply. "No napping," he reiterated. "Caleb already texted me to say that he and Hanna are on our way, so you wouldn't have time even if we _did _let you nap." He began mindlessly mixing drinks in the kitchen, handing one to both Emily and I when I rejoined them in the living room, with the front door opening not minutes later, and our apartment beginning to fill quickly.

* * *

"Never have I ever slept with more than five people," I announced, watching as most of the people in front of me drank from their cups, Toby included.

"Never have I ever slept with another guy," Lucas followed, receiving groans from Alison, Hanna, and Aria as they all tipped their drinks back.

"You've never slept with a guy?" I heard in my ear and shook my head quickly, not wanting to broach the subject when there were close to ten other people around.

"Never have I ever slept with a girl," Hanna quickly rebutted, the cheeky smirk on her lips clearly a sign of pride as she watched all of the boys in the room drink, as well as Emily. I could feel the other girl's hardened gaze staring at me, and I lifted the rim of my glass to my lips, sipping lightly and ignoring the looks of incredulity around me. Feeling a second pair of eyes singeing my cheekbones, I turned to meet Toby's blue eyes before shrugging, attempting to seem as though the subject matter were being treated cavalierly.

"Just when I think I might be getting somewhere with you, you throw me for a loop," he whispered, though there lay no animosity in his words. He nudged our shoulders together, hoping to loosen up the walls quickly building around the me, so I shot him a tight lipped smile before returning my gaze to the action around us.

"Never have I ever gone streaking," someone threw into the circle, and everyone laughed as all five of us girls finished off our drinks and rolled our eyes, almost simultaneously.

"Ali's house in the Hamptons," Emily supplied as she stood to grab refills for our friends, recalling the summer we'd been dared to skinny dip in her neighbor's pool by Jason. The cops had been called, leaving us to run down the street sopping wet and bare skinned until we were safely hidden behind the thick oak door of Ali's summer home, doubled over in laughter. Jessica assured the officers that we had been upstairs, fast asleep since earlier that evening, but we had received one hell of a lecture the morning after.

"Never have I ever been in love," Alison continued smartly, rolling her eyes at the thought as she reached upward for a fresh drink from Emily, watching as that brunette, Caleb, Hanna, and Toby all sipped easily from their cups. Aria groaned before drinking as well, settling back against the pillows with her arms pulled tightly across her chest.

"Never been in love?" Toby echoed, watching my face for any giveaways that I wasn't being entirely truthful. I shook my head, thinking back to the past "relationships" I'd been in, knowing full well that none of them constituted anything past minimal affection, perhaps a bit of lust. His words had been quiet, but not nearly hushed enough to be missed by my best friend.

"People fall in love with Spencer," Emily offered, giving a commentary on the second question in a row. "She just doesn't reciprocate, or _notice _for that matter." My chocolate eyes sent a glare across the room, strong enough to have any grown man quivering in his boots.

"Anyway," I cleared my throat, trying to diffuse the awkwardness my roommate's drunken explanation had perpetuated. "Never have I ever smoked weed."

"That didn't stop you from popping pills in high school," Alison rebuffed automatically before sipping from her cup, along with several others in the room. Aria slapped the blonde's leg, narrowing her eyes and utilizing a strength few of us had before when it came to the overbearing blonde's lack of mouth filter. Having known Ali for almost ten years, our group of four was used to her stabbing remarks and hurtful insults, but with a potential relationship on the line, we all had little patience for the other girl's lack of social couth.

"Never have I ever had a pregnancy scare," I spit out.

"Never have I ever been locked up in a mental institution after I had a breakdown," Alison sent flying back.

"Never have I ever gone so far as to fake my own fucking _death _for years." My words were sharp, my chest heaving, and my mind losing grip on any semblance of patience I had. "Never have I ever encouraged a friend to throw up because she wasn't thin enough." Caleb's arm tightened around Hanna's shoulders with that dagger. "Never have I ever blackmailed someone into telling their mother that their father was having an affair." Aria's teeth clenched in response. "Never have I ever –"

"That's enough!" Emily barked, effectively silencing what little sound the room was emitting, save for my roommate's hardened words. I grabbed my pack of cigarettes and stood quickly, exiting the apartment at a speed that rivalled the Olympic runners.

Toby's eyes flickered between harsh brown and cold blue, unsure of where my outburst had come from. The liquor had been flowing freely, but up until that moment, he'd seen me on an upswing – we all had. The fight or flight feeling, one he was now fully versed in, thanks our study sessions before my finals, buzzed in his gut, and leaving his cup on the floor, he stood, quickly following me, despite my want to put football fields of distances from everyone in that apartment. He found me not far from the apartment, my shoes abandoned and my legs submerged to the knee in the water of the complex's pool, as I laid back, staring up at the few visible stars in the city's night sky.

"I hate that she does that," I murmured, not shifting my gaze. Toby hesitantly crossed the space between us, settling down beside me before removing his own shoes and slipping his feet into the cool water. He stared straight ahead, a tactic I knew he used often to see if I would continue if he kept our eyes in different directions, knowing my inherent dislike of eye contact. "She won't ever let me forget about my past," I whispered, my voice hoarse and on the verge of cracking, "and she knew I wouldn't like it if she brought it up in front of you."

The silence was palpable for several long minutes before Toby realized I wouldn't divulge anything more without a bit of prompting. "Why wouldn't you want me to know?" His already low, gravelly voice was quieter, softer, and soothed the fury burning in my chest, though it also managed to bring tears to my eyes.

"You like me, right?"

My words were vulnerable, broken, and so very unlike the woman he had come to know in the short months since we had first met. Shifting his gaze directly to mine without meaning to, he nodded emphatically. "Of course I do Spence." I mirrored his nod, though I knew I seemed wholly unconvinced. "I'm not going to stop caring about you because of your past. You know that, don't you?" My shrug and the swift hand wiped beneath my eyes said differently. "I like who you are now, and if it weren't for your past, you wouldn't be the woman that I –" the word wobbled on the tip of his tongue, and we both heard it fighting to escape in the damp night's air – "like so much, as a friend. Because we're friends." For someone so selective with his words, Toby had a tendency to ramble when he was nervous, a feeling he didn't often show in my company.

"Right," I yawned, wiping at my eyes for a different reason this time, "friends."

"Then as your friend," he sighed, "I will care about you, no matter what. And as your friend, I have to tell you that you need help Spence." I watched carefully as he fidgeted with his hands, flicking one fingernail against the other. "I may be okay with your past, and I may be able to handle your present, but you aren't, and you can't." His voice had fallen, barely a whisper. "As your friend, I need you to help yourself, because as someone who may one day want to be more than your friend, if it's ever a possibility, I can't lose you to this."

"To what?" The two words were harsh, far harsher than I had intended them to be, and I could see the taken aback expression fold its way into Toby's features.

"You're smart Spencer Jill, much smarter than you give yourself credit for. I talked to Emily after you went to sleep Sunday night, about your psychological disorders test. You can't tell me that after reading that textbook backwards and forwards you didn't notice things that stuck out to you." I slowly sat up, watching as he kept his gaze fixated on his feet, distorted through the rippling water. "Em noticed, and so did I."

He reached out for my hand, but the touch burnt my skin and I pulled away quickly. "I'm not bipolar," I whispered, my voice breaking midway through the denial.

"I never said you were," he volleyed back. "You assumed that's what we had talked about, which means somewhere, deep, deep down if I know anything about you, you've questioned it too."

* * *

_I feel my vision swim as I sip on my fourth – fifth? – Red Bull and vodka after slamming down a shot of something or other that the man next to me had ordered for us both. I turn, taking in his scraggly beard, his eyes hidden beneath the brim of a cowboy hat. Where in the fuck am I? His voice is gruff, as I expect it to be, but I can't understand his words more than I can understand my own thoughts._

_"Spence?" Spinning on my bar stool, I find a wide grin and crinkled blue eyes and smile back automatically before looping my arms around his neck and hopping to the ground. My legs wobble dangerously and I suddenly sympathize with colts and newborn deer. It must be hell to not be able to control your legs, and the five inch heels I originally thought were a good idea are proving to be quite the opposite. "You okay pretty girl?" he teases, as I finally manage to sort out the confusion between my brain and my limbs, standing a bit straighter. I nod happily, pulling him closer and committing his scent to memory as our bodies press tightly against one another._

_"Can we dance?" I whisper, though midway through, that quiet voice turns to a yell so that I can be heard over the music blaring around us. He echoes my nod, and intertwines our fingers, leading my heart off to the races, pounding with the pace of a thousand horses. The song isn't one that I'm familiar with, nor is the style of dance, but once we hit the wooden floor, Toby leads my motions without a second thought. I spin dangerously, nearly hitting the couples around us, but he somehow manages to pull me back in a split second, allowing the dizziness in my head to subside and preventing me from knocking over anyone. A foolhardy grin colors my lips as I watch his feet move in perfect time to the beat, though his movements aren't quite like those around us – he's somehow managed to turn country dancing into something uniquely his own. My smile grows as I realize that I'm not surprised in the slightest. He pulls me just that much closer, and all I can focus on is his crooked smile, framed by lips I could listen to for hours. Or maybe his eyes, gently crinkled at the corners and bluer than the sky is most days. Or maybe it's the light scruff covering his jaw line, or the collarbones I can see peeking out from the shallow V-neck he's wearing, or -_

_Hoots and hollers surround us, pulling me away from my admittedly less than innocent thoughts, and thankfully away from the soon-to-come berating thoughts of how I couldn't, and shouldn't be with him. However, after everyone has properly celebrated the end of this first song, something I had never experienced in a bar, a second comes on – this one much slower._

_"Do you still want to dance?" What little logic I still possess screams no, emphatically no, but the alcohol buzzing in my system throws out a cavalier why not? So I nod and loop my arms around Toby's neck, keeping a respectable amount of distance between us._

I'm gonna wear you down. I'm gonna make you see. I'm gonna get to you, you're gonna give in to me. _My neighbor's deep voice sends shivers down my spine, and I can feel my body magnetized, being pulled closer to his without my consent. _I'm gonna start a fire. You're gonna feel the heat. I'm gonna burn for you, you're gonna melt for me. _My body lights up automatically as his fingers brush my lower back, the tips of them pressing gently against my shirt, urging me even closer. The pounding in my heart escalates and I look up at him with wide, frightened eyes until he continues singing. _ You're gonna take my hand. Whisper the sweetest words. And if you're ever sad, I'll make you laugh, I'll chase the hurt. _Chase the hurt, I repeat softly, almost mouthing the words, and he nods, pulling me against his chest, leaving my chin to nestle into the crook of his neck as we continue to sway slowly. My right hand is still intertwined with his left, but my other, tucked around his shoulder, is hanging loosely as my eyes flutter shut. _ My heart is set on you. I don't want no one else. And if you don't want me, I guess I'll be all by myself.

* * *

The song was still playing in my ears when I shifted in consciousness, sighing as the world blearily came into focus and I recognized the slight headache between my eyes. My body jolted awake violently as I realized I wasn't at home, in my own bed, and I was in nothing more than an oversized t-shirt and my underwear. My limbs relaxed when I gathered that the room was Toby's, but seized again when the fact that I was scantily clad slipped back into my mind. I rolled over, finding the other side of the bed cool, meaning I had either slept here alone, or he had slipped out early. Groaning, I slid my legs off of the mattress, feeling the chill of the air leave goose bumps along my calves, and moved toward the living room. My eyes fell on Toby, spectacularly shirtless and sleeping peacefully underneath the blanket I normally curled up under when we watched movies on that same couch.

I opened his front door as quietly as I could, settling onto the carpet and pulling a cigarette from the pack he kept near the doorway rather than searching for my own. As I puffed gently, pieces of the night fit back together. I remembered pushing him into the pool playfully, ignoring his very real assumption that I might need professional help. I recalled his strong hands pulling me in right after, dunking me under the water. When I was halfway to the filter, I remembered Emily, Paige, Hanna, and Caleb joining us and a three-way chicken fight that Paige and Emily continuously lost. The shape of the vodka bottle in my hand was another not so distant memory, though much vaguer was the idea that Toby carried me back to his apartment. I wasn't sure if I had fabricated those last moments of the evening or not.

I worked very hard to forget things on a semi-regular basis, that at times, it was hard to recall what was real, or what was merely a figment of my overzealous imagination. I tucked my knees to my chest, pulling the t-shirt over my bare shins and resting my head on top of my bent legs. It was becoming exhausting to be unable to distinguish fact from fiction, and that exhaustion planted a seed in the back of my mind, one that I had avoided for years. _I need you to help yourself. I can't lose you to this_. Steeling myself into a resolute decision, I determined that I couldn't afford to lose myself either.

* * *

**AN: Frankly, I wasn't expecting to churn out another chapter in less than twenty four hours, but work is extremely slow, and I was inspired. :) I hope you all enjoyed this segment, because I enjoyed writing it, though I'll admit it was a bit harder than usual. This story is somewhat based in reality, so reliving some of this emotions hit me when I wasn't expecting it. As always, comments and criticism are appreciated!**

**Also, a shoutout to TheVelvetDusk, who probably wasn't expecting that flashback/dream sequence, haha. I hope you enjoyed it love. :)**

**And as a second side note, the song Toby is singing is Give In To Me, originally by Faith Hill, though the version I envisioned is by Garrett Hedlund and Leighton Meester, from the movie Country Strong. Give it a listen. :) (It's also the inspiring title for this fic, obviously enough.)**

**Until next time, xx Aimee**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: I planned on having this up far earlier than this, but this was hands down the hardest chapter I've ever written, in any of my stories, as it so closely parallels moments from my own life. I apologize for the wait. Also, you probably noticed chapter four was re-uploaded. I don't have a beta, so when I went back and re-read things, I noticed a few typos, and corrected them!**

**That said, there is a slight trigger warning for self-mutilation. It is mentioned once, in a single sentence, but I wanted to give everyone a head's up. (It's toward the very, very end of the chapter.)**

* * *

"Spencer Hastings," she finally spoke, meeting my gaze with warm green eyes. "How are we today?"

I shrugged, looking for a single adjective that could encompass my feelings. "I'm better than I was yesterday, but probably not as good as I'll be tomorrow."

She hummed lightly, nodding as I had earlier. "Well then, I'd like to run through a standard list of symptoms, and all I need is a simple yes or no answer, unless you feel it necessary to explain. We'll conduct a brief medical history as well." Her eyes met mine once more, receiving a silent confirmation. "Do you have a history of mental disorders in your family, and if so, what are they?"

"My mother was diagnosed with depression a while back," I supplied, though the arch in my therapist's eyebrow led me to continue. "My sister isn't exactly the most stable, and my mother has bipolar tendencies – spending a lot of money, working for weeks on end without sleeping much at all, that sort of thing. Neither of them has been diagnosed though."

"Okay, and you – what brought you here?"

"My friends are concerned." The answer was simple enough, and probably would be considered sufficient, but something tugged in my gut and provoked my next words. "I had a really hard time this past semester."

"Sleep disturbances?"

"I either don't sleep, or I can sleep all day. It depends on my mood."

"Would you say your mood shifts frequently, or violently?" _Violently_. The word settled low in my stomach, making a bubble of nausea lift into my throat, but I nodded as I swallowed it down. "Do you experience bouts of irritability or blackout rage?"

"I've never blacked out, unless it was from drinking a little too much." I was well aware that I was skating around the questions, but each one felt as though it were digging just a little too close to the truth, whatever that truth might have been.

My therapist hummed again, a tic of hers that was beginning to wear on my nerves, as if she knew something I didn't. "Do you see things out of the corners of your eyes? Black shadows perhaps?"

Thinking back, I could remember tens, if not hundreds of times that I thought I'd seen something in my periphery that wasn't in fact there. "Is that a thing?" My eyebrows scrunched inward to meet one another, but decompressed as my therapist nodded. She continued running through questions, leaving nothing but the kitchen sink untouched before pulling out her prescription pad. "I really don't want to be on medication," I whispered, feeling my body deflate as I wrapped a loose string from my shorts around my finger, cutting off the circulation.

"I figured as much, with the obvious control issues you have Miss Hastings, but I honestly don't see any other option. You have a rather severe case of bipolar disorder, more than likely triggered by your removal from your parents' home." The spoken diagnosis left goose bumps covering my skin and a tremor developing in my left leg. "You said yourself that those closest to you are concerned, and you clearly aren't happy with your current state, given that you've been fidgeting in my office chair for the better part of an hour. You know something needs to change, and this is how we catalyze that change Spencer." Sinking into the leather of the chair, I pulled my legs up to my chest before nodding, blinking several times in an effort to keep the tears pooling against my eyelashes at bay. "It doesn't mean you've failed," she continued, her voice lower and almost soothing. "It doesn't mean that you are a weak person. If anything, the fact that you've managed to operate this long without medication means that you are incredibly strong; even strong people need a helping hand sometimes though Spencer." I nodded again, not fighting the tears any longer as I reached across her mahogany desk, fisting the prescription papers between my quivering fingers.

After driving around Rosewood for as long as I possibly could without stirring up suspicion, I pulled into the parking lot of our apartment complex, mind still foggy and limbs exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to crawl onto the couch and bury myself in a book, or a movie, or a TV show – anything to distract myself from the strikingly evident reality of the bottles of pills sitting in my purse in the passenger seat. Looking up after I gathered my things, I found both my front door open, as well as Toby's, though neither doorway was occupied. Refusing to spare it much thought, as my brain was barely cognizant without meaningless life riddles, I slowly crossed the square of grass that was the "yard" we shared with at least ten other tenants. I slipped off my shoes and dropped my purse onto the floor as soon as I crossed over the threshold, inhaling a positively heavenly scent.

"I'm making your favorite," Emily grinned when she noticed me, some of her enthusiasm meandering through the small space and ensnaring itself within my muscles.

"If it weren't blackened chicken and Alfredo, I might be upset that you and Toby had planned a celebratory dinner for my first therapist appointment." Truthfully, wholeheartedly, I had hoped that they would act as if nothing had changed, but I knew better than to underestimate the pair. I couldn't be upset at my best friend's soft smile, the look radiating pride without saying a word at all. She turned to pour two glasses of wine, turning back only to slap my free hand as the other popped a piece of chicken into my mouth. She absentmindedly extended one goblet towards me before pulling back hesitantly, a flash of uncertainty crossing her features. "I can drink on my medication," I offered, sensing her incapability of voicing her concern. "It's fine Em, really. I checked."

"Of course you did." A deep chuckle colored the words as I turned to meet bright blue eyes and a knowing smirk leaning against my door frame. A tug in my chest brought me across the room quickly and I sighed as strong arms enveloped me, holding me close for seconds longer than the boy normally would. "I'm proud of you," he whispered into the top of my hair, one hand soothingly rubbing my back, "and that's all I'm going to say, because we both know you don't want this to be a big deal. But I'm proud of you." I nodded against his chest, feeling a second clouding of tears prick at my eyes, squeezing them tightly shut.

I didn't pull away, instead relishing in his warmth and breathing in the scent of his cologne, one that managed to instill strength in my bones and make me weak in the knees all at once. If this was progress – if this was _change _– I was more than okay with it. I wasn't fooling myself into thinking that hours, days, or even weeks after this decision I would be in a place to love him, or to let him love me for that matter, but with this first step, I had the first flicker of hope in my chest that maybe one day, I would be able to. Maybe the thing I had fought so hard against would help me be able to.

* * *

Days had passed without change in my mood, though my pharmacist had briefed me on this possibility. The medication I had been prescribed could take up to three weeks to begin fully circulating through my system, and I might not notice changes until then, so I rode the remains of a manic episode until Saturday morning. Emily had left to spend a weekend with Paige, something that was a rare occurrence during the school year, and while I had waved her off hours ago, I hadn't yet moved from my place on the couch. Staunchly curled in the fetal position beneath thick blankets, I shivered violently as I tried to keep my eyes open and focused on the television's flashing scenes. The air around me was thick, leading the voices of the characters to seem muffled at best, garbled at worst. My eyelids were heavy and I was fighting a losing battle, succumbing to sleep more often than not, waking to find that I had slept through several episodes after each nap. Waking the last time, I pulled my hair on top of my head, securing it in a loose bun and padding slowly towards the front door and a nicotine fix, sliding my left thumb to unlock my phone and answer Emily's many texts.

_11:32 AM – I got here fine! I called, but you must have your phone on silent. Paige and I send our love!  
1:15 PM – I'm not even going to pretend like I"m not a little concerned, but I'm going to assume you're alive. Love you.  
4:58 PM – Spencer Jill, call me back, so that I actually will know that you're alive please.  
__7:04 PM – I called Toby, and he's going to check on you when he gets off of work. Please, please call me back. Paige thinks I'm crazy for worrying, but I keep thinking of the worst possible scenario. So just .. call me back._

Hoping to curtail an aneurism on my best friend's part, I hit the call button as I opened the front door, settling down with a lit cigarette, only to hear Toby's car pull in as Emily's voice rang through my ears. "I'm fine, I promise," I immediately responded, forgoing typical conversational mores. "I think I'm getting sick is all. I've been sleeping on and off all day today." I could hear her sigh of relief and could practically see her shaking her head at the worrisome thoughts that had invaded her for most of the day. "I'm sorry. I didn't even think to check my phone." Guilt boiled into my throat, and despite her repeated assurances that it wasn't a problem, a hard pit formed in my stomach and didn't seem as though it would dissipate any time soon. "Okay, I love you too. Have fun this weekend, and stop worrying about me. I'll grab some Nyquil or something and I'm sure I'll be fine." The brunette on the other line finally consented, but the weight in my abdomen didn't lighten in the slightest. It instead sent signals to my brain to torment me, as the voices trooped back in.

_They'd be better off without you_.

It wasn't an uncommon phrase for my head to throw back in my face, but the strength with which the words came bowled me over. They had never been more than whispers that I could chalk up to my own insecurity and try to fade into the background, but now, it was as if they were hydras. Each time I cut off a head, more followed, louder and more angry before.

"No they wouldn't," I whispered, squeezing my eyes tightly shut and inhaling roughly.

"They wouldn't what?" Toby questioned, settling down next to me in the doorway, rubbing a soothing hand across my knee. I just shook my head meekly, the voices rising and echoing against my skull. _They would be better off, and you would be too. It isn't worth it to keep fighting like this. You'll never win. _"Spence? Are you okay?"

"I think I'm getting sick," I replied, mimicking my earlier explanation to Emily, though the lie still sounded as flat as it had the first time. "I'm gonna go and lay down again."

He nodded, his disbelief evidently displayed in the furrow of his eyebrows. "Text me if you need anything I guess, unless you want some company." I could hear the hope in his words, as well as see them in his light eyes, and gave in, nodding. "I've got some Sprite in my fridge, and some flu meds, if you think that would help. I'll go grab them." _Keep him out of this_. I shut my eyes again, shaking my head as if that would clear out the merciless voices. Taking a last drag of my cigarette before putting it out against our shared ashtray, which sat between the doors of our apartments, I dragged myself upward and in the direction of the couch, which was no easy task. My legs were like jello, refusing to listen to my mind urging them to cooperate; if I hadn't known any better, I would have thought I was blackout drunk again, like I had been the night we'd gone out together.

Hitting a few buttons, I pulled up a movie on Netflix Toby had been talking about incessantly since before it even hit theaters. Waiting until he'd doled out my medication and settled himself in, I pressed play, snuggling into his side out of habit and hearing the voices hush down, though not fade away completely as his arm wrapped around my shoulders and he pressed a light kiss to my temple.

"You don't feel warm," he remarked, not taking his eyes away from the screen, which made it only that much easier to allow a third lie to slip from my lips.

"I took some ibuprofen earlier." I felt his nod against the top of my head, and unscrewed the top to the bottle of soda in my hands, fighting the urge to pull away each time I heard the whispers again, this time in my own voice. _Keep him out of this. You aren't worth the trouble._

* * *

Popping back three pills, one prescribed, and two of the medication in question from the night before, I sipped slowly on my water. Every move I made, no matter how slight, left my head pounding and as soon as I placed the glass on the counter, I resumed massaging my temples as tears stained my cheeks. It was late into the afternoon, and no number of pills could dull the screaming in my head. Trudging toward the bathroom, I flipped the faucets on, hoping that the rushing of the water now, or perhaps the scalding heat in just a few moments would pull me from the dredges of my own thoughts in due time. _Let them go on without you. _I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and shook my head furiously, despite the migraine exploding between my ears. _They may be sad for a while, but they'll get over it. The relief of knowing they won't have to take care of you will trump that sadness. They shouldn't have to worry about you constantly. _My fingernails dug into the skin of my knees as I sat naked and shaking on the edge of the bath tub. _You know what to do Spencer. You've always known it. It's always been there. Stop being a coward and put everyone out of their misery. _"Shut up!" The scream reverberated off of the tiled walls of our small bathroom, echoing back at me as I continued whispering the two words, a prayer of sorts or, at the very least, a bargaining plea. _Asking for us to be quiet won't do you any good. We'll always be here. _I felt myself slipping away, any will I had to keep fighting overshadowed by pure, unadulterated anger as the words continued flowing. I gave in, hoping this darkness would pull me from the one my mind had created .

"Spencer!" The words brought me out of the fog I had succumbed to, and I slowly blinked, finding my cheek once again pressed against the tiles of the bathroom floor, uncovered and completely bare. Moving my body as tenderly as I could, I found Emily's features set into a hard line until I sat up, whereupon her face fell. "Spence, what happened?"

"I think I fell asleep," I mumbled, my whole body quivering and refusing to journey forward to complete consciousness. "They wouldn't stop."

"Who is they?" The panicked expression in my best friend's eyes should have triggered an emotional response in my own, but my body was too war-worn for that. I could barely keep my eyelids from slipping shut. I felt her rush to my side, tears streaming down her face, and slowly reached up to cup her cheek, brushing my thumb back and forth to sooth her.

"They stopped though." My whisper was quiet, but clearly heard in the close quarters, a hint of accomplishment tinting the words until I hissed, pulling away from Emily's reach. Looking down, I saw long, jagged scrapes from my hip bone to the middle of my thigh and a small cotton ball dabbing gently at them.

"What happened?" she repeated, her voice even smaller than my own had been. "Who are they? What did they do?" Any fight in my body dissipated and I collapsed against my best friend, body wracked with sobs. Aside from gasping breaths, I only managed broken words that meant nothing to the woman beside me, holding me together as best she knew how – running her fingers through my tangled hard and whispering soothing sounds into my unlistening ears. As I gained control of my breathing once more, she grabbed my hands, shifting my body toward the bath, the water now the perfect temperature. I felt as though I were watching from a distance as she poured water over my matted waves and brushed her palms over my cheeks, trying desperately to cling at the fraying fibers of my mental state. "We'll call your doctor first thing tomorrow morning," she whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead before reaching for a clean towel. Wrapping it gently around me, Emily carefully dried every inch of my shaking form before pressing gauze against my thigh and taping it down. "We'll figure all of this out, okay? Together."

* * *

**AN Round two: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I know it was far more Spencer-centric than others have been, but it was a necessary plot pawn in order to keep the story moving in the direction I would like it to. There will be a lot more Spoby interaction in the following chapters, so don't give up on me just yet. ;) xx Aimee**


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